For a Stranger
by V Tsuion
Summary: Admiral James T. Kirk is a stranger, but somehow Spock knows he would do anything for the admiral.
1. Chapter 1

The first thing he sees is a face. A man's face that he does not recognize, but is somehow achingly familiar.

" _Jim!"_ The name passes through his lips unbidden.

Admiral James T. Kirk is a stranger, but somehow Spock knows he would do _anything_ for the admiral. Spock would follow him to the edge of the galaxy and beyond, if he just gave the word, or perhaps even if he didn't. The thought of what he would be willing to do if the admiral was in any danger frightens him a little.

* * *

His retraining on Vulcan is more difficult than it should be. At least the Vulcans do not lie to him. But for some reason he finds himself skeptical of a philosophy he has been told he once wholly embraced - still embraces. His reluctance mingles with a pervasive feeling of wrongness that he cannot shake. Often, all he can think of is the admiral and he wonders why.

His telepathic activity has been restricted until his memories return - the Vulcans say that they should return, but in truth they do not know; this has never been done before, not in living memory. He can only meld with Vulcans because that is how they teach, but for some reason he always finds something lacking. He wonders what it would be like to meld with the admiral.

* * *

When he returns to the Enterprise, he is greeted with a fierce joy, an outpouring of emotion, that nearly moves him to tears despite all of his training. _This_ is what was lacking on Vulcan.

He meets the admiral's shining hazel eyes and again he thinks unbidden, _Jim_. He cannot look away.

He is _home_.

But everything is strange to him.

He does not know how he understands all of the readings at the science station and there is much he does not understand that he knows he should. He does not know why it pains him so much to see Uhura serving as First Officer when he is hardly fit for duty - he knows he was only allowed to return out of something like pity. He does not know why the admiral's smile - which he gives so often and so willingly - makes him freeze and melt and feel as though he is composed of some gelatinous substance all at once, nor why the sadness in the admiral's eyes threatens to break his newly regenerated heart.

If it were acceptable, Spock would be inclined to follow the admiral everywhere as to remain constantly by his side. But he does not know why, so perhaps it is for the best that the admiral keeps his distance. The admiral does not avoid him, not at first. He expressed in no uncertain terms when Spock was reborn and again when he arrived on the Enterprise that he would be whatever Spock needs. And whenever Spock is in the room, the admiral is always looking at him with that brilliant smile and mournful eyes. But there is always more distance between them than feels natural - a comfortable Vulcan distance - and he gradually comes to the conclusion that the admiral is avoiding interacting with him alone.

So, Spock keeps his distance in respect for the admiral's boundaries. After all, there is no reason for them to interact when he is not on duty; he is not even the First Officer. Perhaps he is merely confused because he is accustomed to serving as such and now that he is not, he is distracted by the rupture in his routine. Instead, he meditates and attempts to draw his long lost memories from his _katra_.

Probing his _katra_ only intensifies this longing for the admiral until it is nearly painful.

 _He is not whole._

The only thing he can think to do is to go to Dr. McCoy. His thoughts toward Dr. McCoy are complicated. He still has not pieced together what exactly their relationship was prior to his death. Dr. McCoy has been gruff and a little distant - just as the admiral has been, but not to nearly to the same extent - but there is something that indicates that he cares, that he is concerned. Spock knows that Dr. McCoy cares for his wellbeing, but still he keeps expecting the doctor to snap at him or be otherwise antagonistic. For some reason it worries him that the doctor is not, that this is another thing out of place.

"What am I to the admiral?" Spock asks when he finds Dr. McCoy alone in his office.

The doctor notices him with a start and hastily turns off the computer, which had been displaying the results of Spock's latest appointment.

"Is something wrong?" Dr. McCoy asks, his voice gruff, but strangely soft. He reflexively reaches for a glass and a bottle of alcohol.

"As you know, my memory is incomplete, but I am under the impression that the admiral is purposefully avoiding me and that this is not typical. Is that the case?" Spock elaborates.

To his surprise, the doctor's fist comes down on the table with a bang and he exclaims, "Dammit, Jim!"

Something about the expression is strangely familiar. Despite the shock of the sudden noise, the doctor's reaction is comforting.

Spock reflexively quirks an eyebrow at him.

"Jim's avoiding you alright, the damn fool! I've been trying to get him to talk to you for weeks now and he keeps rambling about not wanting to impose," Dr. McCoy grumbles, as much to himself as to Spock. He glances over at Spock and it looks like he is about to continue, but he seems to think better of it.

That bothers Spock more than whatever Dr. McCoy could have said, but there are more important matters at hand. "He is... concerned?" Spock asks; he does not bother to hide his uncertainty.

"We're all concerned!" Dr. McCoy exclaims. "Jim's just a bullheaded-" he stops himself. He softens his voice as he continues, "I'll talk to Jim. Don't worry, he isn't holding anything against you - the opposite. He's probably just as lost as you are. If Jim doesn't come knocking by tomorrow morning, tell me and I'll whip some sense into him if I have to," Dr. McCoy says.

"Please, do not harm him," Spock says before he can stop himself, even though he knows that the doctor has no intention of doing so.

"I won't," the doctor grumbles. "It's just a figure of speech."

Spock gives him a sharp nod in acknowledgement. "Thank you, doctor," he says and takes his leave.

* * *

"Admiral Kirk, get down to sickbay immediately!" Dr. McCoy announces over the intercom.

Kirk signals Uhura to take the helm and runs to sickbay as fast as he can.

"Is Spock okay?" he demands as he bursts through the door.

"He would be if you weren't avoiding him," Dr. McCoy retorts, poised to meet him with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Bones," Jim pleads, "I can't. I miss him too much, it wouldn't be fair to him to see me like this-"

Bones cuts him off, "He sees you like this all the time! I've seen how you look at him on the bridge, you really think he hasn't noticed?"

"That's why I have to avoid him! It's not fair to him! He's not mine any more! He doesn't remember any of it! It's not fair for me to expect so much of him for something he doesn't remember!" Jim nearly shouts.

"He remembers more than you think he does," Bones retorts. "He came to _me_ and asked if you're avoiding him. He looked pretty damn distraught over it too."

"I can't-" Jim begins to protest again.

Bones talks over him, "You can and you will. I know, it's hard to see him like that, it's hard for the rest of us too, but you didn't win him over the first time by ignoring him, so if you want him back you better damn do something about it instead of letting him think you don't like him."

* * *

Spock does not have to wait long before there is a knock at the door to his still unfamiliar quarters. It jars him out of his meditative trance and he finds himself with the irrational hope that it is the admiral. No matter who it is, he stands in quick, efficient motions, and opens the door.

He finds the admiral holding a three tiered chess board. For an instant he sees an expression of discomfort on the admiral's face, but it is quickly replaced by an all too easy smile.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," the admiral says, glancing down at Spock's meditation robes. Somehow Spock can tell that he is still uncomfortable. "I can come by another time."

"Jim, wait," Spock reaches out without thinking and grabs the admiral by the wrist.

They both freeze. The admiral's face breaks into a desperately hopeful smile. He is on the verge of tears. Even with the sleeve of the admiral's uniform between them, Spock can almost feel all of the admiral's emotions threatening to overcome him. He cannot look away from the admiral's pleading eyes.

Finally, he remembers himself and releases the admiral's wrist. "My apologies," Spock says.

"You have nothing to apologize for," the admiral insists, and for an instant his eyes burn with fierce protectiveness. Then it is gone and there is something so fragile about him. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have interrupted you." He turns to leave.

"Wait," Spock exclaims again, but this time he keeps his hands firmly clasped behind his back. "What is it that you wanted?" he asks, unable to think of anything else to say to keep the admiral there just a little longer.

The admiral stops and faces him again with an awkward chuckle. "I was just going to ask if you wanted to play a game of chess, but-"

"Yes," Spock interrupts before the admiral can backpedal, "I would like that very much."

The admiral gives him a true, genuine grin.

So they play chess and talk, and somehow, something seems to fall into place.

"This is how we got to know each other," the admiral - Jim - remarks when he has gotten particularly comfortable, "Playing chess and talking."

There is a wistful look in his eyes, but when his gaze comes back around to Spock, he just looks happy to see him. For the first time since his return, he does not see regret in the admiral's eyes as though he is looking for someone else.

Somehow, Spock finds the courage to ask, "What were we before?"

The admiral sighs, a long, drawn out breath. Finally, he says, unable to look Spock in the eye, "We were many things; friends..." he trails off. He takes in a deep breath and forces out the words though Spock can tell that it pains him to say it, "It doesn't matter any more, what we were. You're alive and you're back and that's what matters. What we are _now_."

"What are we?" Spock cannot but ask. He also wonders about what they were, but he knows he will not get any answers.

The admiral swallows back tears and suggests, his voice still a little shaky, "What about friends?"

It is a start, so Spock nods and says, "Yes, I would be most amenable to your friendship."

* * *

 **Note: Here's my second and final submission to the 2018 Old Married Spirk Challenge, thanks to the lovely plaidshirtjimkirk for organizing!**

 **I should say that I've never seen any of the movies, I've just watched The Original Series and have a sense of what happens from various fanfics that I've read (in particular "Say my name" by HanaSheralHaminail on Archive of Our Own), so please point out any continuity or characterization errors.**


	2. Chapter 2

The admiral - Jim - is in pain. Spock can see it in his mournful gaze and the deep bags under his eyes, how little he eats and how he winces at loud noises. They are playing chess, but the admiral is distracted. He has lost all three games they have played so far without putting up much of a fight.

His state is not new. Dr. McCoy has implied that the admiral has been doing poorly since Spock's death. Spock can attest that the admiral's condition has in fact improved in the time since his return, but the admiral is still not well. He has been bereaved. He has lost one dear to him, and even though Spock has returned, he knows as well as the admiral does that he is not himself.

But it is the least Spock can do to comfort Jim as his past self would have done. His willingness to do anything for the admiral, at least, has not changed. Almost unconsciously, Spock reaches a hand out toward Jim's own, with half a thought of conveying reassurance if not through psychic contact, then through touch alone.

Jim withdraws his hand abruptly and decisively.

Spock feels the corners of his lips twitch downward in the barest intimation of a frown. He takes another turn and watches Jim make another careless mistake before he can remain silent no longer.

"Are you not well?" he asks, though he knows it is not the right question.

Jim looks up from staring blankly at a corner of the board. He appears exhausted, nearly to the point of illness. "Don't worry about me," he says with half a smile. "You already have enough to deal with without shouldering my problems too."

"It is my duty," Spock begins to protest.

Jim shakes his head.

"I am your bondmate, am I not?" Spock says.

Jim freezes, his eyes wide. His breath catches in his throat.

"You remember?" he whispers as though he dares not say the words aloud.

"Not everything," Spock admits.

"Then it's not your duty," Jim snaps. For an instant his eyes seem to flash with anger. "You can't be held by a promise you don't even remember."

"You are in pain from the broken bond," Spock protests, holding out a hand for a meld.

"No!" Jim nearly shouts, swatting away Spock's arm. "Not like this."

Spock can tell that the pain in Jim's head is getting worse as his emotions elevate.

"I won't let you do this just because you think it'll help me. I refuse to take advantage of you." Jim is furious.

Spock nearly trembles at the force of Jim's raw anger. He lowers his hand, but he does not surrender. "I know I am still not whole, that I am not the same as your bondmate, though I may have his _katra_."

"That's not true," Jim says, his voice barely a hoarse whisper. "You may not remember, but you _are_ the same. That's why I have to be so careful." Anger flashes across Jim's face, but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared, giving way to exhaustion.

Emboldened, Spock tries again, "I do not remember, but I bonded with you once and I would do so again if you desire it." Jim makes to protest, but Spock continues, "Not merely because you desire it, but because I am also not whole without you. Because the more memories I regain and the more time I spend by your side, the more I long to return to what we once were."

Jim is staring at him, just staring at him, as though he is unable to trust his ears or himself. Finally, he seem to catch up with Spock's words. Jim gives him a soft, sad smile and shakes his head. "Don't decide now, don't make any promises. We have to wait until your memories return anyway."

"What if they never return?" Spock challenges.

"I can wait," Jim says firmly.

Spock knows better than to argue, so instead he says, "Please, even as I am not your bondmate, trust me. Allow me to help you. You are right, it is not wise to meld, but if there is anything else I can do please allow me to be that which you need as you would do for me. At the least, know that you are not alone."

Spock hesitates. It is not what a Vulcan would do, but Jim is not Vulcan and Spock is only half-Vulcan, as he is too often reminded. He tentatively reaches a hand out, across the desk, and places it on Jim's arm. There is, of course, a layer of cloth between them, but he can feel Jim's warmth, if not his thoughts, through the material.

Jim smiles at him again, a gentle, almost wry smile that seems to set his sad eyes aglow - they are fixed on Spock and he feels his heart beat a little faster under the admiral's gaze. Jim's voice cracks a little as he says, "You're right." And then, softly, "Thank you."

* * *

 **Note: I couldn't just leave it off where the first chapter ends, so the story continues!**

 **The first and second chapters were originally posted on my tumblr, vtsuion dot tumblr dot com, where I am posting shorts like this one, answering questions, and accepting writing prompts, so check it out!**


	3. Chapter 3

Spock emerges from his meditative trance with a jolt.

It is the middle of the night - as much as night and day can be simulated on a starship. He knows for a fact that Jim also has this shift off and should be sleeping. But he doubts that he is actually asleep and this is much too important to wait. Jim has been forced to wait too long already.

Spock's supposition is quickly proved correct. Jim is still in his uniform, and he has even come to the door to meet Spock there instead of calling from his desk. Spock wonders how long it has been since the admiral has slept.

"What is it?" Jim demands, clearly expecting some disaster. His warm hazel eyes are colored with concern as he searches Spock for some trace of injury.

"I remember," Spock says, looking Jim firmly in the eye.

Jim reaches out and grabs both of Spock's arms as though to confirm that he is truly present. "Everything?" he insists.

Spock nods. "Accounting for typical memory loss caused by the passage of time, it appears that my memory is intact. I feel as though I am myself once more." He gives Jim a small, almost imperceptible smile, but he knows his bondmate will understand.

Jim stares at Spock as though he cannot believe his eyes and then slowly his face breaks into a wide grin. His relief is palpable - he is shaking. He releases Spock's arms and waves Spock into his quarters, a hand on his shoulder. He is plainly disinclined to let Spock go, even for an instant, and Spock does not object.

Once the door is closed behind them, Jim turns to face Spock again. He returns his hands to Spock's arms and looks him in the eye. Jim's smile seems to glow with joy even though he is still shaking and his eyes shine with tears.

Spock wants nothing more than to meld and bring his bondmate the peace he has been denied for so long - to surround him in soothing calm and to be surrounded himself by the warmth in Jim's bright smile. But he must be patient, just as Jim has done for him. They will have plenty of time for their minds to be one once more.

Jim's eyes begin to wander, taking in Spock in his entirety, as though to memorize his every feature. Finally, his gaze fixes back on Spock's eyes.

 _Why, Mr. Spock, you almost make me believe in miracles._ The memory leaps to the front of Spock's mind unbidden. The process of returning to himself has dredged up many old memories, good and bad, but most prized among them are his days on the Enterprise. Jim's bright hazel eyes are the same - just as expressive as ever - even though he is older and has been changed by everything that has occured in the intervening time just as Spock has. In that moment, their future is just as bright as it was all those years ago on the bridge.

"What do _you_ want?" Jim asks, interrupting Spock's reveries. His expression is suddenly sobered.

Spock cannot help but smile - as much as a Vulcan can smile - with fondness he cannot believe he had forgotten. His bondmate is being so cautious, so careful not to make any assumptions. It would be unlike him if not for everything that had occured.

Spock quirks an eyebrow at him, unable to resist a chance to tease, "What do you think it is that I want?" His expression, subtle as it may be, ruins any enigmatic effect, but that is for the best.

Jim grins, and his face lights up with humor. Still, he hesitates when he says, "I was hoping that you might be inclined to resume our former relations, however-"

Spock cuts him off there - as endearing as it is to hear his bondmate affect an almost Vulcan manner of speaking, no doubt the result of years of exposure - "Yes, I would be most amenable to resuming our former relations, as you say."

Jim's eyes seem to shine. "Good," he says, but he does not make to move. Instead, they stand there, Jim's eyes locked on Spock's, his hands still firmly clasping Spock's forearms.

So, Spock takes the lead. He raises one hand and extends two fingers toward his bondmate.

Jim's eyes widen at the once familiar gesture. He slowly lets go of one of Spock's arms and moves his hand down, so the tips of their fingers meet. They just barely brush against each other, but Spock is almost overwhelmed by Jim's emotions. He is astounded Jim has handled it all with such composure and sends as much reassurance as he can back through the brief contact.

Only when the link between their minds is broken does Spock have the presence of mind to realize that beneath the outpour of emotion, Jim is exhausted. His nervous energy has vanished, giving way to shaky relief. Again Spock wonders how long it has been since Jim last slept.

He will not leave his bondmate alone under the circumstances, so Spock says, "It is late. I felt your exhaustion. Allow me to help you sleep."

Jim grins. "Only if you want to," he tacks on belatedly.

Spock nods. "It is the only logical course of action."

"Of course," Jim says with an indulgent smile.

It has been a long time since they have shared the same space, much too long. It is a testament to Jim's exhaustion that he makes no attempt to move or even to ease the sudden tension.

Eventually, it is Spock, who, upon remembering Jim's headache from the broken bond, instructs the computer, "Lights fifty percent."

The lights dim and Jim lets out a sigh of relief.

Next, Spock says, "I was not aware I would be spending the night. I must retrieve my belongings and then I will return."

Jim is not happy with the prospect, but he permits Spock to depart.

Spock returns to find Jim already in his nightclothes. He forgot how little humans typically wear to bed, especially when sharing quarters with a Vulcan who requires a high temperature and gives off heat besides. It is perfectly logical that Jim is wearing almost nothing, but Spock still finds himself staring at his bondmate, of whom he has seen so little since his return, evaluating and admiring his bare chest and legs.

Spock feels a green blush creeping into his cheeks as he notices Jim looking back at him, bemused and unabashed.

And then he realizes that it's his turn to change into his nightclothes, and the blush deepens. Jim shows no indication of looking away, and why should he? There is no logic to embarrassment, especially not in front of one's bondmate. But as Spock peels off his uniform, he sees something other than logic in Jim's gaze. It is flattering, but Jim plainly needs sleep more than anything else, so Spock quickly finishes changing and lets his bondmate lead the way to bed.

Jim lies down first, as it is his bed and these are his quarters, and then Spock maneuvers around him so that they are lying side by side, Spock on his back and Jim facing him on his side, their bodies barely an inch apart, but somehow not quite touching on the narrow bed. It cannot but be intentional. Out of the corner of his eye, Spock can see Jim watching him, wondering what he will do. There is that almost painful uncertainty that Jim has endured since Spock's return. And for Spock, it has just been so long, he has gotten so used to being careful.

If that is what Jim needs, then Spock will be reckless. He reaches out an arm to bridge the distance, to bring Jim closer to him. As his hand brushes Jim's chest, again he feels a burst of powerful emotion, of uncertainty and relief and exhaustion. This time he lingers on Jim's bare skin projecting warmth and comfort.

He feels Jim's nerves begin to dissipate, and the link between their minds, shallow as it is, begins to soothe the pain of their broken bond. Jim inches closer to him so that he is leaning against Spock's chest, enveloping Spock in his warmth. Jim is pressed against him, his chest to Spock's side, so that their hearts seem to be beating together, even as Spock's beats much faster and Jim's much slower.

It is not long before Spock feels Jim fall asleep, and the soothing rhythm of Jim's mind soon lulls Spock to sleep as well.


End file.
